Chapter 9
Jonathan was alone in the room, and he looked to be in his late twenties. He traveled light, but Sean noted the computer set up on the desk, along with recording equipment.
Jonathan was tall, thin, and wore round glasses. He had a frantic energy, as if his bones were constantly vibrating, making it hard to sit still. He tapped his foot quickly, trying to dispel some of his nerves.
“Any leads on the case, Sheriff?” Jonathan asked.
“Just you,” Sean answered.
“What?” Jonathan asked.
“You spoke to the victim in the rose garden yesterday,” Sean answered.
“Which one?” Jonathan asked, laughing, but when Sean didn’t reciprocate, he cleared his throat. “I’m not a pedophile, Sheriff, if that’s what you're insinuating.”
“So, you did speak with a nine-year-old girl yesterday in the rose garden?” Sean asked.
“Look, I’m working on a project, okay? I’m a journalist.” Jonathan patted his pockets, then glanced back at his desk and picked up a lanyard that read The Boston Globe Press.
Sean examined the badge with Jonathan’s credentials. “And what is a Boston journalist doing in a small boutique lodge in Connecticut?”
“The little girl’s father?” Jonathan asked. “Roman Grayson? I’m doing a story about him.”
“What kind of story?” Sean answered, handing Jonathan’s lanyard back to him.
Jonathan smiled. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, Sheriff.”
Sean wasn’t in the mood for games, and when he stepped closer, Jonathan took a step back. The kid was short, barely a buck fifty, and Sean was over six feet and two hundred pounds. It didn’t take much for him to intimidate someone like Jonathan Travis.
“Look, I was talking to the girl because I wanted insight into her father. That’s it,” Jonathan said.
“Why did you want to know about Roman Grayson?” Sean asked.
“Look, Sheriff, this story I have, I’m keeping it close to the chest,” Jonathan said. “Unless you have a warrant or something, I’m not going to leak information to you, all right?”
“You think I’m going to leak what you tell me to the press?” Sean asked. “You’re the only press here.”
“And I’d like it to stay that way,” Jonathan replied. “I’m not the only person working this thing, okay? Yes, I spoke to Karla yesterday. Was it in a morally gray area? Sure. Did I kidnap her? No. I have no desire to ruin my reputation.”
In Sean’s experience, journalists didn’t have much of a reputation to begin with, but Jonathan remained tight-lipped for the rest of their conversation. Whatever he and Karla had spoken about would remain a mystery until Sean finally found the girl himself.